


What SHOULD Have Happened

by Eliyes



Category: Blue Beetle (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:55:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliyes/pseuds/Eliyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hey, aren't superheroes friends, occasionally? Wasn't there a big spandex grapevine before ever Barbara Gordan started her career as Oracle? And speaking of Oracle, didn't she like Ted enough to maybe drop a hint to a few friends?</p>
            </blockquote>





	What SHOULD Have Happened

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted to Livejournal August 20, 2005.
> 
> Please feel free to suggest a better title. *facepalm*

Ted Kord sighed and rubbed his temple. It wasn't really helping. Neither was adjusting the angle of his desk lampshade, or drinking water, or even taking Aspirin. His headache was from an external source.

_I would much rather be pulling an all-nighter in my lab than in my office, going over the books,_ he thought, glancing at where the cool light of predawn was starting to show on the other side of the blinds. But the books needed doing, because there was money getting lost.

He really couldn't explain it. Either someone was embezzling from him, or hacking his accounts and stealing from him, or else his accountants just could not count and all deserved to be fired.

_It would be different if we weren't **selling** anything, or sales were poor, but that, at least, has been going well. So where is the money going....?_ He sighed again and stuck a pen in his mouth, running a hand through his hair.

He didn't **know** where the money was going. Which meant that he was going to have to keep an eye on things -- without seeming to keep an eye on things -- and **see** where it was going. The problem was, he might not have enough capital left to do that, and couldn't be sure he'd figure it out quickly enough to not go broke. Whoever was behind this -- if someone was -- they were good. Very good.

Ted got out of his chair, stretching his aching back, and wandered over to his window. He peeked out at early morning Gotham. To his relief, he saw not one costumed crime-fighter. That had been one of his major concerns when he made the move to Gotham; he was on Batman's turf, and Batman was **notoriously** territorial. If you weren't part of his little cadre or Batclan or whatever you wanted to call it, you shouldn't be there. But Hub City had just gotten too crazy and weird and crime-ridden to stay there.

_Poor Vic..._ he thought randomly, a faceless face coming to mind. Not everyone had the sense to get out, or maybe the Question was just too stubborn to leave...

Thoughts of one crime-fighting partnership inevitably turned to thoughts of another, but he stubbornly refused to think about Booster Gold. Nevermind that Booster was **from** Gotham, but could not be found there or in Metropolis or **anywhere** Ted had looked. He was beginning to wonder if his friend had returned to his own time, to be frank, and was a little hurt that -- if that was the case -- he hadn't said goodbye.

The phone rang.

This startled Ted enough that he spat out his pen and half-spun towards the desk.

The phone, predictably, rang again.

A few quick steps and he was squinting at the dim caller display. A number in Long Island, apparently. Not one he recognized. Who in Long Island would have **his** desk number? He scooped up the receiver.

"Hello?" Ted winced at how tired his voice sounded. Well, that was what staying up all night would do to you.

"Hello!" said a surprised-sounding, but quite pleasant tenor. "I was expecting to get your answering machine."

"He doesn't come in until seven o'clock," Ted joked. "You got me in the flesh, instead."

"Well... great! Look, I was reading the business section of my morning paper, and I couldn't help but notice your company isn't doing so hot these days. No offense."

Ted slouched in his chair, twirling his pen around his thumb and wondering why this voice sounded so familiar. That wasn't a Long Island accent. Los Angeles? Maybe by way of New York? Well, a lot of jetsetters swapped coasts seasonally...

"None taken. We haven't been doing great."

"Which is really weird, because your sales seem pretty good."

"Uh, yeah." Ted raised an eyebrow at the leading tone of the unknown caller.

"Look, not to stick my nose in, but do you think maybe someone's been cooking the books?"

Ted sighed. "Look, Mr. Friendly-voice-out-of-the-blue, that's proprietary information. I'm not really inclined to share it." _And how **did** you get **my** number, anyway?_

"It's Mr. Logan, actually. But call me Gar. I was hoping to make you a business offer."

Ted straightened slowly in his chair, realizing where he knew the voice. Gar Logan. Gar Logan was Changeling, he was a Titan. And he was also heir to Steve Dayton, the fifth richest man in the **world**. _Gar Logan wants to make **me** an offer?_

"I'm listening." And as he listened, Gar outlined some very reasonable terms.

"...And of course, my accountants will have a hairy and want to go over your accounts with a microfine comb. Which, if you let them, might find your problem."

"Yeah. Yeah, they're welcome to. **I** certainly can't find the problem." He scrubbed the back of his neck with one hand, a little blown away by it all.

"Uh... and, well, one more thing. You **do** realise I'm a superhero, right?"

"Yeah. Shapeshifter, saved the world a few time over. I used to spend a lot of time in New York, I remember."

"Are you cool with that? This will give me greater access to your inventions, and I'll probably want to use some of them. Not that I'm not buying from you on a regular basis, anyway."

"Ha! You just want an employee discount!"

"Something like that."

"It doesn't bother me. I used to have one of the few contracts with the JLA. Now, of course, their only Terran supplier is Waynetech."

"Well yeah. Waynetech." The way he said it made Ted realise immediately, _He knows. He knows that **Bruce** is... Does he know **I'm**...?_

"So, whattaya say? Shall we do lunch? Get the contracts all signed, and the money in your pocket?"

"Uh." Ted's eyes looked at the clock.

"...Or did you have lunch plans?"

"Sleeping, actually," he admitted. "I've been up all night going over the books."

"Breakfast, then? I can be in Gotham in --" He broke off as a deep voice rumbled quietly in the background. " -- uh, just one second." There came the sound of a hand covering the phone. Ted, still looking at the clock, raised his eyebrows. It wasn't quite six o'clock in the morning, and there was obviously a male with young Mr. Logan. _...Interesting..._

"Uh, can I change that second suggestion to 'dinner'? As Vic just pointed out, my lawyers are probably not awake just yet, and they need time to have six fits before they get down to contract writing, usually."

"Dinner sounds good," he confirmed. "It will be my breakfast. What time?"

"Tell you what, call when you wake up and we'll decide the time and place then."

Ted yawned. "Sounds good. See you tonight."

"Looking forward to it."

As Ted hung up the phone, a message screen opened on his computer. From Oracle, of course.

>>>: Having a productive morning? :<<<


End file.
